


g r a v i t y

by seiseijoh



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Trauma, Confessions, Extended Metaphors, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Surprise Kissing, Touch-Averse, Touch-Starved, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24375169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seiseijoh/pseuds/seiseijoh
Summary: Tadashi is terrified of being touched. Being touched means hurt, pain, aches, bruises. The idea that someone could touch him with affection, with love, with care, is a foreign concept.He feels safe with Kei. Kei is not the kind of person that touches, that gives out his affection freely or demands it himself.Tadashi is a little asteroid caught in a moon’s pull, inextricably tied to him but never touching, never too close.And then the moon reaches out, beckons the little asteroid to come crashing into him, and Tadashi's orbit will never be stable again.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 351





	g r a v i t y

**Author's Note:**

> Did I just project all of my own issues onto Yamaguchi and write something angsty that kinda ended up being a wish-fulfilment fantasy? The world may never know.
> 
> All jokes aside, I didn't intend for that to happen. I just wanted to write some touch-starved yama and this happened so... have fun I guess lmao
> 
> This was beta'd by two wonderful people to whom I'm very grateful 💖

Tadashi learned from a very young age that to be touched meant to be hurt.

Sometimes people didn’t even need to touch him to hurt him, hurling sharp words that cut and stung. But in the early years, more often than not, the words were accompanied by a fist or a shove or an open hand. Tadashi was delicate, easily scarred. But scars make the skin grow thick and Tadashi tried to make them grow in the right places, where he couldn’t be hurt anymore. They grew in layers around his heart, trying to cut it off from the rest of him, so that even if something got through, he wouldn’t feel it so keenly.

After the early years, there was Kei. Kei, who didn’t need to hit to hurt the people that made the scars grow. Kei, who never offered protection but gave it anyway when Tadashi came crawling to him, drawn in by his razor tongue and unyielding strength.

Kei was not the type of person to reach out, to raise a hand whether in friendship or in anger. He was safe, even if his temper sometimes flung out words that bit. But Tadashi’s heart was protected, the scars too thick to cut through, no matter how deep the teeth sank in.

At home, he had his mother – like Kei, she was not the type of person to touch. She loved Tadashi, and Tadashi loved her, but he could only remember two times in his life that she had ever purposely touched him. The first time, at the age of six, when she put a hand on his shoulder and told him that his grandparents had been killed in a car accident. The second time was almost the same - two years later, a hand on the shoulder when his dog was put down. To be touched by his mother meant death, meant loneliness and pain and fear. He loved her, but the thought of being touched by her made him sick.

He grew up with his mother and he grew up with Kei. He grew up with a caged heart and sensitive skin. And he was okay. He was all the stronger for it, learned how to sharpen his tongue and cut people down before they could get close enough to touch. He wondered if Kei would ever tire of him, cut loose his devoted follower and turn him out to the wolves. But he never did, and Tadashi began to see him as a constant. A solid presence in his life.

Tsukishima Kei was a moon, and Yamaguchi Tadashi was but a tiny asteroid willingly caught in his gravitational pull. Moving in a steady orbit with him, together but never touching, never too close. Secure, safe, ceaseless.

* * *

They say high school is a whole different ball game but Tadashi could never have imagined just how much would change within only a few months.

He joins the volleyball team because he loves volleyball, but also because he loves Kei, even if he’ll never tell him, and Kei pretends not to love volleyball, but he does. He expects a team like their middle school – close, friendly enough, but respectful of the boundaries he and Kei have - and for the most part that’s what he gets. The third years understand – Tadashi flinches when Daichi pats him on the shoulder for a job well done, and is never touched by him again. Suga goes to ruffle his hair after a practice gone well, but stops himself, and Tadashi wonders what Daichi told him. Even Ennoshita seems to know – he stands close, cheers him on and supports him. But when he claps his teammates on the back or hugs them, he simply smiles at Tadashi.

But with Tanaka, Noya, even Hinata – it seems as if they’ve never heard of ‘boundaries’. Tanaka thumps him on the back with whoops that covers up Tadashi’s squeaks of shock and fear. Noya jumps on him, cheering, when he executes a successful jump float serve, and it’s like the second year can’t feel the shudder that runs through him every time. Hinata doesn’t seem to know how to exist without physical contact, and is too dumb to pay attention to the fact that Tadashi would rather cut off his hand than high five him.

He loves them, but he doesn’t trust them. Karasuno is a good team, a close team. A team that he’s proud to be a part of. But if push comes to shove, he knows who’ll still be there in the aftermath. Only Kei. Always Kei.

And then, suddenly, it’s not Kei.

* * *

They’re studying alone in Kei’s room when it happens.

Kei’s got his headphones on, like he always does, and Tadashi can just hear the hum of his music. It’s something soft and slow, probably classical, because that’s what he always listens to when he’s studying. Kei is predictable. Dependable. Unchanging.

Tadashi’s sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, and Kei’s sat at his desk. The desk is neat and organised, while Tadashi’s work is strewn out in front of him in messy piles. He’s picked up a lot from Kei, but not his organisational skills. He bites the end of his pen as he contemplates the next math problem he has to solve. Four more and he’s done for the day, but they’re complicated and he reckons it’ll probably take him at least another half an hour. Kei’s busy with an essay, the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on his laptop keyboard drawing Tadashi’s attention away for a moment. He closes his eyes, wonders if he’ll be done before Kei is. The tapping stops.

He opens his eyes to the scrape of Kei’s chair as he gets up. Taking a snack break, presumably. But he presumes wrong, because Kei doesn’t leave the room. Instead he sits down in front of Tadashi, shifting some of his papers aside so he can cross his legs neatly underneath him. Tadashi cocks his head. Kei looks at him, eyes serious, and nudges his glasses a little further up his nose.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while,” he says, “and I think I’ve finally decided to do it.”

Tadashi frowns. He wants to ask what he means, but he knows Kei will only find the question annoying and pointless, because he’s going to tell him anyway. So he keeps his mouth shut.

Kei clears his throat, and it’s the first time Tadashi’s seen him look nervous for quite a while. He looks away, and then back, eyes serious again. He squares his shoulders.

“I like you.”

Tadashi’s confused, and for some reason it decides to manifest as a hesitant giggle. “I-I like you too, Tsukki.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Obviously I like you; we wouldn’t be friends if I didn’t like you.” 

Kei looks away again, starts to play with his hands, and now Tadashi’s even more confused, because that’s his most obvious nervous tic and he really doesn’t understand what reason Kei has to feel that way.

“So, what do you mean then?”

“I like you. Differently… to that. I… I like you.” He says it plainly, like what he means should be obvious, but it’s really, really not.

“I don’t understand. I’m sorry, I’m probably being really stupid,” Tadashi says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Kei sighs, the irritation crystal clear, and Tadashi cringes internally. He starts to apologise again, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish what he’s saying, because Kei shakes his head like he’s giving up, and that scares him into a panicked silence. He hates when Kei’s mad at him, even if he knows it’ll only be for a day or two. He wants to fix it, make Kei happy, but he doesn’t understand.

He’s so busy trying to work it all out in his head that he doesn’t register Kei’s movements for what they are – both hands, reaching out for him. Crossing a no man’s land and invading the trenches he’s dug for himself.

Kei touches him, palms to his face, pulls him in – the distance set by his gravitational pull entirely ignored, the laws of physics and the rules of Tadashi’s heart torn to shreds. He pulls him in, the atmospheric entry burning Tadashi all the way to the bone, and kisses him.

Tadashi’s consciousness shuts down, breaks apart, so his body reacts for him. He draws one leg back and kicks full force into Kei’s stomach. Kei is flung back with a wheeze, a cough. Tadashi stares, chest rising and falling as rapidly as his heart beats in its cage of scar tissue, as Kei clutches his stomach and relearns how to breathe.

“If you don’t like me,” Kei huffs, winded, “that’s fine. You didn’t have to kick me.”

An apology rises to Tadashi’s tongue, but even though his mouth is open as he inhales, exhales, shallow breath after shallow breath, he can’t make it fall. Instead, an entirely different set of words escape; the ones filling up his mind like they’re the only thing he’ll ever be able to think about again.

“You touched me.”

Kei looks at him like he’s stupid – and he is, he’s so stupid, he  _ knows _ that people can’t be trusted and yet here he is, trusting that Kei will always be the predictable, dependable, unchanging feature he’s always been in his life. Trusting that one person in his life wouldn’t break the rule he feels he’s had carved into his skin since he was small.

“I thought you liked me too.”

Tadashi’s only just conscious of what he’s saying. He doesn’t have any control; he’s an outside observer of the black hole his life has just become.

“I do.”

“Then why did you kick me?”

“Why did you touch me?”

“Because generally touching is involved when people kiss,” Kei says, exasperated, rolling his eyes. “You’re being weird. I don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

He shifts – not to touch him, Tadashi recognises that, but just an unfurling of his body now that he can breathe. It brings him once again into the space between them, and Tadashi flinches away, his back hitting the bed.

“Don’t touch me!” he screams.

Kei recoils in shock and stares. Tadashi wants to pull back further, but the bed is in the way, trapping him, suffocating him. He staggers to his feet and runs for the door. He hears Kei calling out to him, but he doesn’t respond, just runs – down the hall, out the front door, and down the street. He doesn’t stop; can’t stop, until he’s safe. He’s always loved how close he lives to Kei, only a few blocks away, and he loves it now, because it means he doesn’t have to run for long until he’s safe. He doesn’t know if his mother’s home and he doesn’t care – he goes straight to his room, slamming the door behind him before collapsing on the bed.

For a moment he’s still, other than his racing heart and heaving lungs.

And then he cries.

He cries because he trusted Kei, thought he knew him, thought he would never do something like this. He cries because he’s stupid to have trusted him, stupid to have not seen it coming. He cries because he has no one now. He’s been flung out into unforgiving, empty space; a vast and crushing and terrifying aloneness.

And he cries because despite it all, despite how his skin burnt black at the contact, and how his body kicked in to defend himself from the hurt, and how even now he’s wracked by tremors; he aches, he yearns for more.

* * *

Tadashi doesn’t go to school the next day, but he knows he can’t avoid it forever. His mother asks if he’s okay, and he says yes, even though he feels like she should be able to see the ashen marks Kei’s hands have left on his face. She accepts it, and doesn’t ask again.

He goes back to school the day after, and some of the team ask if he’s okay – Daichi, Suga, Ennoshita, Asahi. Ukai asks. He apologises for missing practice, tells them he was sick. They accept the excuse, but with suspicion. On the way back to the clubroom to change, Suga quietly asks again. Daichi tells him to stay behind and once the others leave the room, he sits him down and questions him very seriously about whether he’s really alright. Tadashi nods, even as his skin feels like it’s going to flake and fall away.

_ Everything’s going to be fine. _

He tells himself, again and again. Kei taught him how to survive, how to be cold and cruel and vicious. He always had Kei as an anchor, but he thinks he’s learned enough to be able to make it on his own, now that he’s been cast adrift.

Kei refuses to even look at him, and it makes it easier. He’s a presence that he can’t ignore, a massive celestial body, but his gravity no longer has the same pull, and a little asteroid can slip by just fine.

At least, that’s what he tells himself. He stares at himself in the mirror before he leaves for school and tells himself he can survive this. He’ll be fine. Kei is untrustworthy, dangerous, and he doesn’t need him anymore. He tells himself this, but he finds his gaze sliding to Kei more often than not. He finds himself still moving to him without thinking, standing beside him before realising his mistake. Karasuno plays a practice match and he finds himself watching Kei more than anyone else on the court.

The hardest thing to deal with is the ache. He’s pushed it down for years – the stupid, foolish, desperate desire that lurks beneath his fragile skin, behind the scarred armour he’s grown. He’s kept it so well-hidden that he’d forgotten it even existed. But now it’s the only thing he can think about. It lives inside him like a parasite, and he wants so badly to cut it out. But no matter what he does to try to ease the ache, it persists.

He  _ wants _ . He  _ wants _ to be able to accept the affection that the team so freely gives out. He  _ wants _ to be touched, to have love behind the action and not pain. He  _ wants _ to be held, to be hugged, to have all the hurt squeezed out of him. He  _ wants _ to have fingerprints brush delicately over his skin, to have palms against his face and soft lips on his without it burning him to his core. He  _ wants _ Kei’s hands on him, his skin against his skin.

He  _ wants _ , he  _ wants _ , he  _ wants _ .

But touch does not bring affection and love. Not for him. Touch brings pain, carves deep wounds and grows scars. Touch means death, means hurt, means loneliness.

Tadashi wants what he cannot have.

* * *

He survives for three weeks, and he’s proud of himself. Once upon a time he wouldn’t have been able to imagine his life without Kei, and even though it hurts beyond belief, he’s surviving. It’s an achievement.

But after three weeks, Suga decides he’s had enough.

It’s after practice on a Friday afternoon, and while they’re getting changed, Suga gets in close to ask in a whisper for Tadashi to stay behind. The proximity makes a shiver trail down his spine, but Tadashi nods and does as he’s asked.

Kei is the first to leave, in a rush, and Daichi is the last, lingering. He talks quietly with Suga as Tadashi stands awkwardly near his locker. He doesn’t hear the conversation, but Daichi seems concerned, shooting worried looks his way, until finally Suga convinces him to leave. He says goodbye, and Tadashi replies in turn, trying to smile through the anxiety slithering around in his gut.

Once they’re alone, Suga looks at him and exhales a sigh that sounds tired, almost helpless.

“Yamaguchi… what’s going on?”

Tadashi does his best confused frown. “Nothing. I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Please…” Suga says, “don’t do this. You’re  _ hurting _ , Yamaguchi, we can all see it. I want to help you, but I can’t if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Tadashi eyes the door, wondering how many times he’s going to have to repeat himself before Suga lets him leave.

Suga steps forward and Tadashi jumps back, banging into the lockers behind him. He cringes at the sound.

“I’m sorry,” Suga rushes, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just… we’re worried about you. You and Tsukki are usually so close and now you can’t even look at each other. Or he won’t look at you, anyway.” He smiles softly. “You still look at him like he hung the moon in the sky.”

Tadashi pulls his hands close to his chest, defensive. He looks away as his heartbeat quickens in its prison.

“I-I…”

“Just talk to me. Between you and me only; no one else will know,” Suga says.

“I can’t…”

_ I can’t trust anyone. You trust someone, and they hurt you. They always hurt you, even if you think they never will. And it hurts so much, so badly that you know you’ll never be the same again.  _

“I promise you can trust me, Yamaguchi. With anything.”

He doesn’t mean to speak, but he does.

“If I can’t trust Tsukki, how can I trust you?”

A sob sticks in his throat and he holds it back, closes his eyes. He hears Suga shuffle, like he wants to come closer but remembers and stops himself.

“Oh, Yamaguchi… I don’t know what to tell you.” He sounds upset, and Tadashi hates that he's made him feel that way. “I could tell you forever that you can trust me, but you wouldn’t believe me, would you?”

The ache soaks into his skin, permeates every cell of his body. He grabs at his shirt and clenches his jaw – he wants it gone, wants the pain gone, but it  _ won’t _ .

“All I can say is that you  _ can _ trust me. I want to help you, Yamaguchi. I truly do. I know you’re hurting and the only thing I want to do is help you through it, because I care about you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tadashi says through gritted teeth, his voice pitched high against his will. “Tsukki cared about me, and he… I trusted him, and it  _ hurts _ , I hate it, I hate that I hate it, I…” He looks up, meets Suga’s worried gaze. “I hate that I  _ want _ it.”

“Talk to me,” Suga says gently, encouraging but soothing at the same time.

Tadashi doesn’t mean to, he really doesn’t mean to, but suddenly he can’t see Suga properly through the tears, and he sinks to the ground with his back against the lockers, crushing his knees to his chest. Suga goes down with him, kneeling close but not too close, respectful, and it sets off another wave of sobs.

“I can’t… I can’t trust you,” he manages to say.

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

There’s a pause, punctuated by Tadashi’s ugly, heavy breaths and tears, and then – it’s as if a floodgate opens, and the words pour out in a mess that Tadashi can’t control.

He tells him about how it was before Kei. After Kei. His sensitive skin and scars around his heart. How he learned to survive. How he was drawn in by Kei’s gravity, willingly trapped, utterly in awe and in love. How Kei betrayed him,  _ touched  _ him. How he still feels burnt, damaged, marked. How he  _ wants _ ,  _ wants _ ,  _ wants _ ,  _ wants _ . He tells him everything, jumbled and jagged as he sobs and chokes and shudders.

Suga says nothing; just listens, nods. Tadashi doesn’t know how long he sits there on the floor of the clubroom, but finally the words stop coming, and everything is quiet.

He almost wants to keep talking, just so he doesn’t have to hear whatever Suga has to say. He’s terrified, but he has nothing left. No words, no energy. He shudders as he tries to breathe, stares at the floor, and waits.

Suga takes his time choosing his words. When he does speak, it’s careful, measured, but soft.

“Yamaguchi, I am so sorry. I can only imagine what it felt like, what it feels like now. I want you to know that you can absolutely trust every single person on the team – none of them will ever hurt you. We all love you, and many of us show that through physical means. I have tried talking to Tanaka and Noya in the past, but honestly, I think they don’t realise how serious it is. They truly don’t mean to scare you.”

Tadashi looks up at him. Suga’s smiling, but it’s tight; he’s trying his best but it’s not quite right.

“I can also say that Tsukki did not mean to hurt you,” he says. “But I think you know that, don’t you?”

Tadashi bites his lip.

“You need to talk to him. Tell him what you’ve told me. I know you two can work things out. You don’t have to be alone.” The tightness drops from his smile, the corners of his mouth softening. “You’re  _ not _ alone. You have us.”

“I-I’m scared…”

“I know,” Suga says. “With how long you’ve lived the way you have, of course it’s scary. But you said it yourself – you survived. You can survive this. You  _ will _ survive this.”

Tadashi sniffs, and another shudder runs through him. Suga folds his hands in his lap.

“I really want to hug you, because you look like you need one,” he says, before hurrying to finish with an awkward laugh. “But obviously I’m not going to. I’m just saying; I always comfort people with hugs.”

Tadashi stares at him, at his hands, at the relatively small distance between them. The ache pulls, ripples, ever insistent.

“… please?”

He’s not even sure he actually said the word out loud, until Suga cocks his head with a frown.

“Do you… want me to hug you?”

He bites his lip, sucks in a deep breath through his nose, and on the exhale, he feels the ache settle into his bones.

“I… I think so.”

Suga pauses a moment before he says slowly, “Okay… you’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable, won’t you?”

Suga doesn’t move until Tadashi nods, and then it’s a slightly awkward shuffle forward. With every inch Suga closes, Tadashi’s heart beats faster and faster – in fear, and anticipation.  _ Want _ .

Carefully, Suga opens his arms and leans forward, letting Tadashi be the one to close the gap. For a moment, he’s frozen, wanting to move - towards or away - from Suga but unable to do either. And then, like a tidal wave, Tadashi surges forward into Suga’s arms.

It burns, it burns, it  _ burns _ . His skin blackens, peels, down to his bones. It hurts. He’s caught in a lava flow and disintegrating into nothing.

But he trusts, and it’s  _ good _ .

The tears rise up again and he sobs, shakes violently in Suga’s arms. His caged heart screams to let go, to push him away, to be safe. But the ache pulls him to Suga like a magnet and he clings tighter and tighter. Suga soothes him, rubs his back and leaves trails of flame and ash seared into his skin.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Suga soothes, rocking him slightly. “Everything’s okay, just cry, let it all out.”

And he does, for so long that he’s not sure he has any tears left by the end of it. Eventually he loosens his hold a little, but Suga doesn’t let go until Tadashi does, and then he sits back and smiles gently.

“Better?”

Tadashi’s exhausted, wrung out. He’s not sure if he can stand.

He nods.

* * *

It’s another week before he can face Kei.

In that week, he allows Suga to tell some of the others what happened. First just Daichi, then Ennoshita, and Asahi. No one ever tells Tanaka, or Noya, or Hinata, but Tadashi tries his best to smile when they touch him, and they notice.

It burns, and Tadashi wonders if it will ever not burn.

He hopes.

He confronts Kei at his house, because that’s where it started and that’s where it needs to end – however it ends. He shows up on Kei’s doorstep, and his brother is home from university, so he’s the one to open the door. He greets Tadashi warmly and it makes him smile, keeps him smiling all the way to Kei’s room.

Akiteru knocks, calls out that he’s opening the door and that he has a guest. Tadashi steps inside, Akiteru cheerfully farewells the pair, and then suddenly they’re alone for the first time in a month.

Kei’s sat at his desk, studying until the interruption. He takes off his headphones and lets them hang around his neck without bothering to pause his music.

Tadashi clears his throat. “I have something I need to tell you. I should have told you a while ago, but I’ve finally decided to do it.”

“Okay,” Kei says, and he’d almost sound bored if Tadashi didn’t know him so well, couldn’t pick up the tension in his voice.

He moves to sit on the bed, and stares at the floor for a moment. His body aches.

“I like you.”

“You said that, right after you kicked me.”

“I’m sorry for kicking you, but I had reasons.”

“Reasons you never explained.” His tone cuts, sharp with his own pain.

Tadashi takes a deep breath, and explains.

Somehow it’s easier the second time, with Kei. He’s emotional, but he doesn’t break down. He cries a little, but it’s not ugly and messy like with Suga. But like Suga, Kei doesn’t say anything until Tadashi’s finished, still staring at the floor as he wipes his tears away.

He hears Kei turn his music off, get up, walk over to him. He sees his feet, and feels the bed dip beside him. Very purposefully, Kei doesn’t touch him.

“I’m not someone who’s very… tactile,” Kei says.

“I know.”

“I didn’t realise that being touched was so… important, to you. Or rather, not being touched.”

“I know.”

“I like you.”

“I know.”

Kei swallows, hard enough for Tadashi to hear. “What do you want from me?”

Tadashi looks over at him. Kei’s staring at his hands as he plays with them in his lap.

“What do you want from  _ me _ ?” he asks.

Kei doesn’t look up. “I want to be able to tell people you’re my boyfriend. I want to kiss you. But I don’t know if I want much else to change. Does anything else need to change?”

Tadashi smiles, and he’s surprised at himself. “I don’t think so. I… I would also like to be able to tell people that you’re my boyfriend. I like talking about you.”

“You do like talking.”

“Shut up.” A giggle escapes as he says it, and he bites his lip. Kei’s lip twitches.

“You didn’t address the other potential change.”

“I… I would also like to kiss you.”

“But you don’t want me to touch you.”

Tadashi breathes in, holds, exhales. The ache is like the tide under his fragile skin, ebbing and flowing, pulling him closer to the moon that affects him so deeply.

“I don’t want to lie to you; it scares me. But I want to kiss you. I want you to touch me.”

Finally, Kei looks at him. It’s a little hard to read his expression, but Tadashi knows Kei, knows him inside and out, knows him better than he knows himself. He’s concerned, hesitant, unsure.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

Kei moves, lifts a hand and leans over. Halfway, he stops and lowers his hand back to his lap.

“Is it alright if I kiss you right now?”

Tadashi nods, and his reply is nearly inaudible. “Yes.”

Kei reaches for him, one hand, palm to his face, pinky finger lifting his chin and thumb on his cheek. It burns, but not like it did before. The ache overrides, pulls him back into Kei’s orbit, and he closes the gap to kiss him.

* * *

Tadashi knocks at the door, and Akiteru is the one to open it.

“Hey, Tadashi! Good to see you,” he says with a grin.

He raises a hand for a high five and Tadashi meets it, cringing a little at the force Akiteru puts behind the move. Akiteru moves to the side to allow Tadashi inside and as he shuts the door, he shouts, “Hey, Kei! Better shape up; your captain’s finally here!”

Tadashi laughs. He moves towards the sound of Kei’s voice telling Akiteru to shut up, and finds his boyfriend in the living room on the couch, book in hand. Tadashi sits down next to him, knees touching.

“Hey,” Kei says.

“Hey,” Tadashi smiles.

They both lean in at the same time, until their foreheads touch. Tadashi closes his eyes and breathes in. Kei’s had a shower recently, judging by his spicy, slightly soapy smell.

“I hate to break the lovebirds up,” Akiteru smirks from the doorway, “But apparently dinner’s almost ready.”

Kei jerks back, a soft blush colouring his cheeks as he snaps at his brother that they’ll be there in just a moment. Tadashi giggles.

Dinner is lovely, as it always is in the Tsukishima home. Kei’s mother talks about how proud she is of ‘her two boys’ both getting into their preferred university, and Akiteru can’t shut up about how proud he is of Karasuno’s performance and their looming Nationals games. When everyone’s finished, Tadashi helps clean up before retreating with Kei to his room.

They hadn’t planned on going to bed so early, but they’ve both had busy days – Tadashi at practice preparing the team for Nationals, and Kei spending precious time with his brother before he leaves the country for his new job. They don’t waste time, quickly changing and getting ready for bed before crawling under the blankets together.

They settle on their sides, facing each other. The bed isn’t especially large, but there’s enough room for the pair of them with a little bit of space in between. Kei reaches out and gently traces his fingertips across Tadashi’s cheekbone.

“It sounds like practice went well,” he says.

“It did,” Tadashi replies, ignoring the sharp little sparks that flare along the trails Kei leaves.

“I think we’ve got it this year. As long as Hinata and Kageyama keep their shit together, I think the team’s good enough to win.”

“Me too,” Tadashi smiles. “But I don’t want to talk about volleyball right now. I’m all volleyball’d out.”

A faint smirk graces Kei’s face. Tadashi rests his hand on Kei’s waist, feeling the prickle of uncomfortableness across his palm – recognises it, and sets it aside.

“I missed you today.”

Kei rolls his eyes. “How are you going to cope when we’re in different classes and busy at different times at university?”

“No idea,” Tadashi replies. “But I’ll survive. Somehow.”

“You will.” 

Kei falls silent for a moment and then, hesitantly, he asks, “Can I touch you?”

Tadashi’s reply is nearly inaudible. “Yes.”

Kei slowly trails his fingers down Tadashi’s neck and along his shoulder, grazing his skin. The sparks follow, but underneath them is the unending, comforting pull of Tadashi’s body to Kei’s. Tadashi lets himself relax as Kei swirls patterns down his arm, the only connections between them being Tadashi’s hand on Kei’s waist, and the barest of fingertips – fingerprints - against his skin. It’s pretty, and it’s sweet, and it’s  _ good _ .

Tadashi moves his hand from Kei’s waist to the back of his neck, and up into his hair. He loves grounding himself in Kei’s hair, fingers curled into soft waves. He loves that Kei originally grew it out for him, for the comfort it gave him, and then realised he actually liked the way it looked. He loves Kei, more than anything.

With the movement of Tadashi’s arm, Kei’s hand slips, and he decides to settle it on the small of his back. Tadashi can feel it over his shirt; it wants to ignite, to burn. But instead it smoulders, extending to his hip as Kei hooks his thumb over it.

Without meaning too, they’ve shifted closer to each other, foreheads nearly touching, sharing the same air. Tadashi sighs, closes his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” Kei mumbles.

“Please.”

He doesn’t even need to pull Tadashi towards him; the tide within does it for him. Kei kisses him and the heat – of Kei’s body, of his breath, his touch – sears his skin.

But Tadashi is here willingly, a little asteroid caught up in the gravity of a beautiful moon. More than that – the moon has beckoned him in, asked him to come crashing into him. To suffer the pain and the fire of atmospheric entry to be close and allow himself to be loved. Tadashi has made the crater of Kei’s arms his home, and one day, he hopes, it won’t hurt to be here.


End file.
